


The Monsters Among Us

by Ria_Zul123



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 07:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10939602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ria_Zul123/pseuds/Ria_Zul123
Summary: It is Earth, years into the future.  Three people, each with very different stories, are about to cross paths and ignite a spark that will not be able to be put out.Alex, a seventeen-year-old stubborn red-head who has lived off the land for as long as she could remember, very much alone in a dangerous forest. She longs to be reunited with her family and to live a safe and happy life, but one friendship will change her life forever.Steve, a nineteen-year-old who has lived in the comfort of New York City, under the strict military regime. He’s always wanted to leave the city, but when he stumbles on a secret, he is forced to leave, and he starts his own dangerous journey towards a safe haven…Kayden, who has no family, and he carries with him his own secret. When he meets a young girl who could have the key to reversing a horrible experiment that turned humans into the mutants that are currently hunting him down, will he take that information from her and leave her to the monsters, or will he face his deepest, darkest fears?The monsters are very much real, and they are closer than they think. What will happen when a dangerous secret, a military law, and a genetic experiment are revealed?





	The Monsters Among Us

**Author's Note:**

> Before we begin, this is a disclaimer in that this is not like other fics on this topic. It is not about parallel worlds, or mobs, or people that get transported into the game. This has twisted the original game in which this is based off of and turned it into quite a bleak and desolate landscape. Do not expect any love circles or ships, do expect quite a lot of feels as you get accustomed to the characters. Two of the main characters are not my own, they are from the game. One is mine, please don’t use him unless you have permission by me. 
> 
> That is all. :)

Seventeen years ago, I wasn’t alive. Seventeen years ago, everything changed. A man and a woman broke the law of never leaving New York City, and came to a secret home in one of the few farmlands left in the world. They lived together, were happy, and had two children.

Then the monsters came. 

They were giant, with gas masks and big weapons strapped to their chests. They took the woman, man, and older son away. Back to the city. The woman called them soldiers. The man called them nightmares. The boy just screamed. In the chaos, they forgot the sleeping baby in the basement were they hid. The little girl woke up to an empty house and drops of dried blood. 

That little girl was me. 

My life has been permeated by the struggle to survive each day. When I was a young girl, about eight, I started to plant seeds from pouches I had found in the attic of the house that I live in to this day. I caught my first deer when I was ten, tried to make a bow and arrows when I was twelve, and I was an expert in using it by age sixteen. Looking back, I probably would have made a good hunter during the Ice Age. 

My worst struggle is against Them. They call me a Wanderer, because I have no city as a home. They stare at me whenever I go near their villages and whisper behind my back. They think I’m strange, but in reality, I’m just lost. I keep one thing in the pocket of my jeans, carrying it with me always. A picture of my parents and brother. A picture, that I hope I can someday compare to the real people. However, I haven’t been able to wander far. 

Because of the monsters. 

When I was twelve, I was walking home in the dark when I heard something. Shuffling footsteps. I turned around… and I had come face-to-face with the most terrifying thing I had ever seen in my life. It looked like an emaciated corpse, with greying skin hanging off of it like clothes,  dried blood running down the side of its face, and no eyes, just empty black sockets. I had ran as fast as I could. After that, I only went out during the day, and I still do. 

Speaking of which, I shouldn’t be here. I’m standing in the middle of the forest, and I hear a creek gurgling in the distance. I glance down at my compass, one of the few things I’ve been able to get with food, and I start walking back the way I came. I check the traps I’ve set over the years and find two rabbits, three squirrels, and… nothing else. Great. My feet crunch through the leaves, and I make my way towards the path that will take me to the village.

When I say village, I mean old, abandoned town, with members that don’t even glance at me. 

“I have carrots,” I say as I lug a package onto the market table. The villager behind the table grunts in approval and takes the food from my hand. He tosses something to me, and I catch it. “That’s it?” I glance at the silver coin. The man nods. “I need that.” I point behind him. There’s an old, tarnished gun on the table behind him.

“Why?” he asks hoarsely. I glance at him in surprise and almost ask _‘you can talk?’_  

“Because. Protection,” I tell him. For all I know, that gun behind the table is the most advanced piece of tech out here. “Please, I’ve- I’ve been saving up.” I fish some coins out of the pocket of my brown cargo pants and put it on the table. The man shakes his head in disapproval. I groan and put the money back, including the silver coin. 

“Run before the monsters find you,” the villager hisses. “Wanderer.” I spin on my heel and walk away from the village market, furious. 

“Monsters,” I whisper to myself, rolling my eyes. “Mutants, maybe. I used to call them monsters.” I get to the small field where my house is, and open the gate, trudging through the paths between the field where I grow vegetables and fruits. The house that my parents lived in is built to withstand a nuclear attack, although it doesn’t look like it from the outside. From here, it looks like a wooden, two story antebellum mansion, but the inside walls are made of reinforced bulletproof steel and if I activate the lockdown setting, steel shutters will close over the windows and in a few minutes the house will basically be a bunker. 

“Hello!” my seven year-old voice greets me as I walk inside. I shrug my backpack off and put it on the old couch, which groans under its weight. I walk to the outside patio, where there’s a fire pit and an unlit torch. I put my bag of game on the table and open it, flinching at the smell. Putting on heavy leather gloves that I found in the kitchen, I grab a rabbit and skin it, then put it on a spit and light the torch with my last match. It illuminates my face and I light the fire. Flames shoot into the air, and I take a step back as the flames flicker dangerously close to my face. I cut up a carrot into minute pieces with a knife, and then I walk over to a chair, sit down, and slowly watch as the rabbit gets cooked. 

I’ve settled into a routine for the past five years. I’ve been doing it since I was twelve. I get up, usually at eight in the morning, eat breakfast, tend and harvest the crops in the field outside my house, then go out to the forest near the village to check the traps in the forest and sometimes to hunt a particular animal. Then I go back to the village, trade, and then go to my house, eat, then sleep, and repeat the next day. 

It gets monotonous after a while. 

Then I hear the screech. I almost leap three feet out of my seat. The scream came from upstairs. From _upstairs._ I grab my torch and my knife, walking back inside. As much as I love my trusty bow, It won’t really work in close quarters. The stairs creak as I tiptoe up the stairs. I open the door to my room and look inside. 

“Hello?” I ask. My voice echoes. Glancing around my room, I see no one, so I close it. Then I turn and look down the hallway. At the end is a door. 

I haven’t been in that room since I was a baby. 

Walking down the hallway seems like it takes eons. I raise my torch, and nudge open the door with my knife. Inside, I see a king-sized bed, the covers still rumpled. Next to the bed is a crib. Standing over the crib is a shadow… I scream. The creature, whatever it is, spins, and then its image goes staticky. I blink, and it’s gone. I run inside the room, swinging my knife back and forth. 

“Who’s there?” I ask again, louder. My heart starts to pound. 

I hear something behind me. Without missing a beat, I turn and throw my knife. There’s an earsplitting screech, and I look up. The shadowy figure is staggering backwards. It yanks my weapon from its stomach, and it throws the knife to the ground.  

“Get out!” I yell. The figure hasn’t moved. “I told you to get out!” I jab my torch at it, and it growls and starts to stalk towards me. I back away, and then I throw my torch at it. The creature jumps out of the way, arcing gracefully through the air. Just before it reaches me, however, its image goes staticky and it disappears. 

I smell wood burning. 

Looking ahead, I see myself blocked by a wall of flames. I walk backwards, then open the window, looking down at the ground, so far away. I get onto the ledge, my eyes burning from the flames, and…

_“Run, Jake!” the woman screamed as the baby cried. The soldiers slammed open the door._

_“You’re under arrest, put your hands in the air,” someone commanded as the baby girl wailed. The flames in the fireplace flickered as the smell of burning flesh filled the air…_

I jump.

Landing on my back, I slam down the slanted part of the roof, falling off and hitting the ground hard. I run back to the porch and grab my backpack, my quiver of arrows and my bow, and I light another torch with the fire from the pit. I run, jumping over the low fence and fumbling so that my torch doesn’t fall. I hear a whoosh behind me, and I spin around just in time to see the house- my house, with my family’s memories in it!- go up in a fireball. I put a hand over my mouth as the fire illuminates my face, the wind from it whipping through my short red hair. My eyes sting, and I turn back to the forest and run. When I finally reach the clearing where I’ve set my usual traps, I sit down on the rocky ground and cry. 

I hear the rustle of paper, I take something out of my pocket. It’s an old, faded photograph. A photograph of my family. 

“I’m going to find you,” I whisper to no one in particular. Owls hoot and the leaves of the trees swish.

Once again, I am alone.


End file.
